Vote for The Toff by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

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‘That’s my contribution to the campaign, Mr. Ar. I had twenty thousand made, they’re as cheap as dirt in big quantities like that. And I’ll send my chaps out as soon as you like. School kids’ll be the ones who’ll start wearing ’em. And that Toff sign will kill ’em. Okay to go, Mr. Ar?’

‘Okay to go,’ Rollison said, warmly.

‘That’s the ticket! Now there’s another thing,’ Ebbutt plunged on. ‘Me and Jolly have been talking about envelope addressing, which has to be done quick. I’ve got most of my wife’s Army people ready to do some, and some of the ladies and older chaps who come to my pub. I didn’t mention who the candidate was. The thing is, do you want the envelopes addressed in any one place—situation, I mean—or can we spread ’em around and have a collecting system?’

‘What is this about envelopes?’ asked Chellis.

‘Don’t you Americans know that?’ asked Ebbutt, loftily. ‘Every candidate is allowed one free postal delivery to every elector, and the candidate puts his election address in it—his statement of policy, see, and a lot of stuff about himself. Biographical blah, I mean. I—’

The telephone bell rang.

‘It is your Aunt Tabitha, sir,’ Jolly announced, solemnly.

Richard took the telephone without pleasure but knowing that this call and many like it were inevitable.

‘… and Richard, your duty is to your own class, you know …’ And on and on.

And a little later, ‘Your Cousin Algernon, sir.’

‘Richard, you can’t possibly do this, old chap. It’s regicide … Eh?… well it amounts to the same thing …’

‘Lady Hirst, sir,’ Jolly said soon, and for the first time Rollison took the telephone anxiously, for he cared deeply about Gloria Hirst, and her opinion.

‘Richard, I am most vexed with you. I would at least have expected to be in your confidence … It is all very well to say you are sorry, but I am truly vexed … Yes, of course I agree with you. I am too old to canvass, but I will address envelopes, have some coffee parties here and contribute to your campaign funds …’

‘Bless your heart!’ Rollison cried; and when he rang off, he announced this news joyfully to the others; the telephone rang again before he finished.

An aunt – a cousin – an uncle – an old friend – an old sergeant-major – two newspapers – a well-wisher – two well-wishers – a great-aunt – an old friend of his father. His father, nearly an octogenarian.

‘If you can pull it off, my boy, Britain will bless you. ’

A well-wisher – a banker – an insurance broker – a man from Lloyds – a business man: and each one wanted to help. Then, out of the blue like all the others, a man with a clipped voice, who said, ‘Do you need Committee Rooms in the constituency, Mr. Rollison? … I thought you would. I have a large corner shop which has just been refitted but no stocks have been moved in. I will gladly let you use this … Oh, no charge, I am with you all the way.

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